Eric aimed the gun, and the zombie stopped, looked up at him.
He fired.
Nothing.
He fired again.
Nothing.
She launched herself towards his leg, teeth reaching the fabric as he fired again. This time a bullet left the chamber. It made a direct shot into the left side of her temple and exited out on the right with a fresh spray of bright red blood. This spray painted the pristine snow crimson.
Eric drew in a deep breath and let the moment pass. When he thought he was ready to move again he got up, collected the wood, and made his way –quickly–back to the truck.
*
The deeper parts of the night fell on the world at large. The snow was still falling, but it had slowed from what it was earlier. If you were to take a measuring stick to the amounts that fell, it would be over a foot.
The Black Sabbath song “The Wizard” was playing at full volume as the two guys sat inside the truck and jammed. They weren’t concerned about zombies or the weather or the fact that the previous owner of this truck might return. They were just happy to find an oasis of happiness in this current storm of chaos.
“They had on skis, gear, everything,” the character replied, trying to picture these skiing zombies that had nearly gotten the best of Eric.
“I kid you not.” Eric stoked the fire in the stove and settled back in his spot. He finished off another beer and crushed out the can, letting the tasty dinner settle on his stomach. He hadn’t eaten like that in a while.
The meat that he had found turned out not to be spoiled, and it had made a fine supper. From what they could tell, it was deer meat. They had also found a bag of chips that weren’t open. Those things, along with the beer, really had taken a rotten day and made it so much better.
“These suckers are getting more and more creative everyday. I almost expect one of them to ride in on a zamboni,” Eric replied, smiling. He felt the laughter starting. The character was also on the edge of full-on laughter. “In full hockey gear.”
That did it. Both men, drunk and feeling good, were now rolling around like two teenagers at a slumber party laughing their butts off. When the laughter stopped, they both looked at each other and it began all over again. The cat sat in one corner licking itself, and it seemed not to care about them, just the bath. That’s all that mattered inside its little brain.
“Stop, stop, stop, I can’t take it.” The character tried to catch his breath as Eric did the same. Both men came to a slow stop with tears in their eyes and aching sides.
While they drank and partied the night passed, the wind blew, the snow stopped.
When the beer ran out, it was somewhere close to four in the morning – they were nursing it like Florence Nightingale. Both men were so wasted they didn’t notice the time. They each grabbed a sleeping bag and passed out into peaceful slumber.
The kerosene lamp burned out about an hour later. The fire in the stove dwindled down to embers and eventually went out.
*
Morning arrived – cloudless and sunny. Its warm rays fallen on the new snow. The men were sound asleep inside the dark truck as a noise in the distance, faint enough not to wake them, stirred the world. It was the cat who responded to it first. He got up off the floor, stretched, scratched, and tried to find a way to look out. He wanted to see what was making that noise. He paced and moved, walking over Eric as he did. Eric stirred, but he was sleeping one off so he didn’t budge.
The cat walked over and sniffed the sealed double doors in the back and pawed at them to no avail. The cat made its way back across the small space to the door that led out of this room and into the cab. He pawed at the door, but it didn’t move. He tried a few more times before finally giving up. The cat was really getting agitated now, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He knew he had to wake the men, and he knew that if he didn’t this could spell trouble. He began to paw at Eric’s face as the noise got closer and closer. Eric didn’t stir so the cat started meowing. It was a last resort, but his instincts told him that was the thing to do.
Eric woke up slowly and shook the cobwebs free as the cat got quiet. “What the hell do you want?” Eric’s ears picked up on the noise. “What the hell is that?”
Eric turned towards the wall, and all he could see was metal. He got up and made his way to the door that led into the cab. He pushed it open and stepped inside. The cold air of the cab sent chills down his back, his breath white as he inhaled and exhaled.
He stood there a moment and listened. The noise was coming from the passenger’s side. He turned to look out the window, but it was covered with a heavy layer of snow. He climbed over the seat and tried to open it, but the snow was so heavy and thick against it that it wouldn’t budge. He tried the door handle, and he found the door unable to budge as well.
What Eric didn’t know was that the way the truck was positioned in the road allowed the wind to push a massive snow drift up against it. This snow drift stood tall enough that it covered the truck from the ground to the roofline on the passenger’s side.
Eric’s brain refused to work (still hung-over), and he was out of ideas as the noise kept drawing closer. It was then that he thought of the hatch.
He scrambled into the back and grabbed the ladder. He scurried up as quickly as his hung-over legs could climb. He popped the latch to the hatch and realized he would need a boost. In his current state, he had forgotten about that. Lucky for him, luck was on his side.
The character stirred. “Would someone turn off that damn leaf blower?”
Eric looked down at the character who had just woken himself up with that statement. The character looked up at Eric who was looking down at him.
“What the hell is that?” The character asked.
“I have no idea, but I know it’s bad, whatever it is. Can you boost me?”
Eric tried to open the hatch as the character got up on wobbly legs. He steadied himself and then went over to Eric who, at the moment, was in a bit of a jam. The snow had buried the hatch so deep that it was hard to budge. The buzzing sound was really getting loud now and very close. They needed to have eyes on the world outside.
“Shit! The snow’s too thick. Hand me something to jam it with, something to give me some leverage.” The character began to look around the room. The buzzing sound was so close now that it was almost making it hard to hear. Whatever it was that was coming at them was coming fast, and it wasn’t stopping. Eric was getting impatient. “Hurry up, will you?”
The character did the best he could to hurry up, but he was very, very, very, hung over. In a zombie apocalypse – why did they drink so much?
The character stumbled onto a piece of wood they didn’t burn and handed it up to Eric. Eric grabbed it and started banging away on the hatch. The glass shattered as the wood went right through. Snow fell onto Eric and the floor below like a powder white waterfall. Eric shook the flakes free and then reached up and removed the shards of glass that were still left in the opening he had just made.
The buzzing sound was now echoing around the room, rattling things that were hanging on the walls, bouncing loose stuff lying on the floor, scaring the cat, who was now in the corner on high alert.
Eric reached up and pushed some snow out of the way. The problem was, all he could see was more snow. He tried to dig a little more, but realized that the only way he was going to make it to the roof was by tunneling. He was glad he wasn’t claustrophobic.
Eric looked down at the character. “Okay, boost me now.”
The character did as he was asked, and Eric scrambled through the opening, tunneling upward until he was able to pop his head out and see the bright blue sky and sunlight. He used his arms to push the rest of the way through and climbed out onto the roof like a corpse crawling out of a fresh grave.
What he saw sent him immediately back into the room below, almost falling off the ladder, as he slipped and scrambled his way to the floor.
“What is it
?” The character asked.
“We’re in trouble.”
“It’s a snow blower, right?”
“An industrial sized one. It probably cleared off entire parking lots in its other lifetime,” Eric paused, “The problem is -”
The snow blower crashed into the passenger side of the truck and the truck swayed from the impact, but didn’t roll over. The noise of the snow blower died.
Seconds later the truck started to get impacted, as bodies, one after another, slammed into it. The truck started to not only move off its spot, but started to tilt. The bodies kept hitting the truck, thud, thud, thud, they went, more impacts, multiple impacts. The force of those bodies was going to push the truck over. It was inevitable
Eric finished his sentence. “The problem is this. The zombie running the snow blower is clearing a path as he goes. This path has allowed the zombies, who can’t figure out the snow, an easy walk to get to us. There must be hundreds out there with more coming in the distance. All they have to do is get to the path.” The truck tilted and groaned. Eric started rounding up weapons and supplies, throwing them crudely in his backpack, and getting ready for the path into the snow. “We need to move and we need to go out the driver’s side door. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” the character replied.
Eric opened the carrier, and the cat ran inside. Most wouldn’t, but it knew better than to dilly dally. Eric scrambled into the cab as the truck groaned from the impacts and tilted, the springs screeched their disapproval.
Eric made his way to the door and dropped the carrier down into the snow. The truck tilted further, more impacts, the spike in the door was now the only thing holding the truck up. Eric could hear the spike starting to separate, screeching softly as it pulled free from its weld.
The character appeared behind him, holding onto what he could in order for support as the truck continued to tilt further with each impact.
The cat meowed as it sat in the snow and waited to go.
“You sure you’re ready?” Eric asked, pistol in hand, backpack on his back.
“Sure,” the character replied, shotgun in hand.
Eric shimmied out the window and jumped down into the snow. Once on the ground, he fired a couple of clean shots into a few zombies who were treading their way ever so slowly towards them. He picked up the carrier and started making his way towards the woods.
The character jumped out the window and was about to move when the truck tilted for the last time. The spike broke free with a metallic rip, and the truck started to fall. The character froze on the spot as the truck came crashing down on its side in a cloud of snow and debris
Eric, who had lost so much already, couldn’t believe he had lost someone else in this world. He hung his head as the cat meowed in the carrier. “So long my friend.”
Eric watched the zombies moving towards him and decided he better move. He fired off the remaining bullets in his gun and took out about three of them. He then turned and ran, making his way deeper into the woods.
TOGETHER 2
The character (still clothed in what he was wearing in the last story – not naked like the first time he appeared here – not sure why) came crashing out of the zombie door and rolled across the floor until he came to a hard stop against the wall. He lay there a moment, catching his breath, letting the warmth of the room return heat to the cells of his body. He couldn’t believe that he had just learned what it was like to die.
The zombie door flashed out, and now there were 9 doors left.
The character stood up and dusted off the snow, checking his body for any signs of mortal damage. It wasn’t every day that you got crushed by a truck and lived to tell about it.
He looked around the round room, and his heart sank. He was back where he started before he went into the zombie story, which was good and bad, good because he hadn’t died, and bad because he was back to square one, the place where he was created.
“Hold on one second.” The words flashed on the wall, our communication, and then I finished up my blog post, saving it for later. Once finished, I returned to him. There was no use trying to do two things at one time. “I’m not much of a multi-tasker.
Ask my wife,” I replied, words of neon pink and green flashing on the wall.
“That was a pretty shitty way to end me in the last story. Getting crushed by a truck like that.”
“I see you remember the last story you came out of, or at least parts of it.”
“I just came out of it, so I think I would.”
“But you still can’t remember where you belong?”
“Can you?”
“Good point.”
“By the way, zombies on skies, and ones that use snow blowers. Don’t you think that’s all pretty stupid?”
“I thought it was pretty clever.”
“I bet your audience is laughing at you right now.”
“I tried to poke fun at myself a bit, during it.”
“Anyway, shit in one hand, wipe in the other. I guess I am off to the next story now.” He picked up the lamp on the floor and turned it on. He shined the light on door number 2 and frowned. He had forgotten what genre came next. “Vampires? I nearly get mauled by zombies, and now you want me to go after vampires.”
“I think Eric did a good job of taking care of you. You didn’t really get into that much danger.”
“I nearly froze to death, lost my damn feet, and I did get crushed by a truck at the end of it, but no, not too much danger. It was a regular fucking cub scout meeting.”
I had nothing to say. He had every reason to rant, stuck out here without his family, asked to go into all of these crazy stories, dancing for me as characters so often do for writers.
“Why vampires?”
“I have always enjoyed that genre, and they are pretty popular right now on my side of things.”
“Are you doing this for yourself or for your audience?”
“Believe me, I ask myself that question every day. On my blog, I wonder if it is traffic, likes, or comments that matter. Is it the subject matter that is more important? Is it what I write that is important? Do I do it just for me or to have an audience?”
“Yeah, and blah, blah, blah. That shit means nothing to me. I need to move on in order to find my family.” The character paused for a moment. “What happened to Eric and his cat?”
“They made it safely to a compound, and now they are home. The zombies were eventually defeated, and it all ended well.”
“So, a happy ending.”
“I usually try to write them that way. I don’t like sad endings. I might put you and my other characters through hell, but I try to give all you guys a nice finish. I also want my audience to be entertained, and not depressed. I write what I like to read. It is as simple as that.”
“I guess that gives me hope.” He reached for the door handle to the door marked “vampire” and stopped. “By the way, can you give me a name this time? Eric never even asked for it.”
“Oops, skimmed that part. Will do?”
He turned the handle. “Wish me luck.”
“Take comfort in this. It looks like if you die in the wrong story, you at least get pushed back into here.”
“Yeah, but that means I have to go through the next door and die again, which sucks, believe me.” He shined the light on Door 3. “Actually that one isn’t so bad. I could see myself in a western.”
“There’s something off about that one. I can feel it, but I’m not sure what.”
“In your mind, it could be anything. I’m sure it’s not a simple western, and that I will find out what evil lurks in due time.”
“That is, of course, if you come back to this room. You might be home in the next story.”
“Honestly. I hope not.” He opened the door and stared out into a new story, a new place, and a new time. A cold chill filled the room, and a bluish full moon light poured its rays on top of him. A wolf howled somewhere in the distance. The character
looked up with a-why me-look stretched across his face.
“Good luck,” I replied, it was all I could say to give him comfort.
“Thanks.” The character turned off the lamp, placed it at his feet, and stepped into the next story.
The door closed.
The round room fell back into darkness.
I went back to finish my blog post.
FANGS AND A FULL MOON
The character appeared in the middle of a road – paved – which was good. The road was deserted and empty, not a soul around for miles. A cloudless sky stretched out over his head filled with thousands of stars, and a bluish full moon light colored the world.
A small house stood in front of him, a cottage of sorts with no lights burning inside. A white picket fence ran the length of the yard, and the trees of the forest were pressed in so tight that it looked like the fence was holding them back from approaching further. A small gate was centered right in the middle of this fence, and once opened; a concrete sidewalk lay at your feet. This sidewalk lead across the lawn to a small porch, which had a lot of flowers growing on it – garlic flowers, but the character didn’t know this. All he saw were flowers.
The character walked up to the fence and stopped. He ran his hands over the smooth white surface and took a moment to look around. This was the only house he could see. The rest of the world was populated by the woods and the road, which wound its way out of sight in either direction through the thick dark trees and forest.
A wolf’s howl sent cold chills up his spine and across his body, pulling him from his observations. That howl didn’t seem so loud when he was back in the little round room of the author’s mind; but now that he was out here, that howl seemed like it was pouring out of everything. It permeated the world.
“Hey buddy. You might want to get out of there.”
The character turned around to see who had said that as a cold wind tore into his flesh. He pulled his hat down over his ears, adjusted his gloves, and trained his eyes towards the sound of the voice. It had come from a bush just off the side of the road.
AWOL: A Character Lost Page 3